Probability
by wild-springflower
Summary: The problem with probability spells is that, one tends to forget they are under the effects of magic while it's happening. The probability is a potential version of the future based on one's intended actions. Going in, everyone obviously knows it's not actually happening, but once the scenario actually begins, it is one hundred percent real. -A tag to season one episode eleven. Spo


Margo laughed softly and shoved at Eliot's arm playfully. He was thankfully sober, at least, _mostly_ sober, and she felt like their relationship was finally getting back to normal.

"So, what do you want to do tonight?" Eliot ventured, taking the last few minutes before class started to solidify some plans.

"Um, the usual." Margo replied with an eye-roll like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Eliot smiled at that, wrapping an arm around Margo's waist and pulling her in for a hug. "Getting so drunk we can't walk, sounds divine."

Margo opened her mouth to respond when her eyebrows furrowed, "Hey, where's Alice and Quentin?"

Eliot gave the room a cursory glance but shrugged their absence off nonchalantly, "Having sex?"

"Alice, miss class to get it on? Yeah right."

"You know those two, they probably-"

Whatever Eliot was about to say would remain forever unknown as the door slammed open violently. They'd barely had time to jump before their professor went sailing across the room, his neck breaking either on impact with the wall or from a spell.

Two seconds later and the room burst into chaos. Desks and tables were flying around the room, students attempting to run, but no one was able to make it very far.

Margo screamed and covered her head, clamping her eyes shut tight. She felt Eliot pull her down and relaxed slightly when his arms wrapped around her body; his heartbeat like a lighthouse keeping her from panicking.

Almost as quickly as the pandemonium had begun, the room settled. Eliot's eyes were wide with terror as he surveyed the destruction and all their deceased classmates.

"What-" Margo croaked, but her voice died in her throat as slow whistling could be heard from the hallway.

The two friends locked gazes before Eliot pushed her behind him. He kept his right hand on her waist, and she held tightly onto his vest, her legs shaking.

She saw the moths first, and then all she knew was that she couldn't breathe. Margo collapsed to her knees, clawing at her throat as she struggled to inhale much needed oxygen.

"No, no Margo." Vaguely she heard Eliot's panicked voice, "You fucking asshole!"

Margo heard a horrible slick noise before Eliot crashed to his knees in front of her. The Magician felt something inside her twist and it was so painful she almost didn't realize she could breathe again, but she had more important things to worry about.

"I wonder when the rest of your friends will be getting here, hmm?" The Beast said in a silky smooth voice, before disappearing back into the hallway.

But she couldn't bring herself to care. "Eliot." She whispered, watching as his body lethargically sank to the ground.

He was gasping, his body convulsing disturbingly and there was a nauseating gurgling sound coming from his throat. Finally he couldn't hold himself up any longer, his right hand, slick with blood from attempting vainly to stem the flow from his neck, fell to the side.

Margo was shaking uncontrollably by then, pulling herself as close as possible to Eliot and the rapidly growing pool of blood beneath him.

"B-Bam," He gasped, lifting his left hand towards her face. The weak limb fell just barely short of her cheek and slid down her chin instead, before slapping limping against the floor. "Love you." He managed, then his eyes closed and his head titled to the side.

Margo froze, her eyes filling with water. She couldn't breathe, and not because of any stupid spell the Beast had cast. "No," she gasped, reaching out a hand and placing it against Eliot's chest. She released a heart wrenching sob when she wasn't able to feel his heart beating steadily beneath her fingers. "No no no, Eliot!"

He had to be asleep, there was no other explanation. There was no way that he could be- no, just sleeping. Any other option was unacceptable.

"Wake up." She demanded, shaking his chest roughly, but he remained unresponsive. "Eliot."

The dam finally broke and tears began pouring down her cheeks. The pain in her stomach was almost unbearable, yet it was nothing compared to the pain she was feeling in her chest.

Margo thought she hard someone enter the room but she could barely get her gasping sobs under control. "No," she wailed desperately, "Please wake up!"

Alice crashed to her knees next to Eliot's unresponsive body and Margo registered that the girl's lips were moving but she didn't hear anything that was said.

Her eyes wandered up to Quentin as she came to a sickening realization: _this never would have happened if they'd followed his advice._ _ **Eliot**_ _would still be alive if they had just fucking followed his advice!_ "We should have listened to you, Q." She whispered, as if that could make anything better. As if that could bring Eliot back.

Blood pooled in the back of her throat and Margo could no longer ignore the pulsating pain in her abdomen. She didn't have enough energy left to mourn her own death, so instead she just collapsed against Eliot's still chest and was simply thankful she'd gotten to spend the last minutes of her life with the man she loved unconditionally.

 **A/N:** Alright, so that happened. Yeah, I don't know what else to say aside from that scene was so terribly depressing. And Margo yelling for Eliot to wake up when he was so very obviously gone, gah! So my brain decided to take that idea and run. Thanks for reading, if it tickles your fancy, let me know what you thought!


End file.
